


This is a Rebel Love Song

by Raven_Strife



Category: L.A. By Night (Web Series), Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade LA By Night
Genre: Eva and Nines was surprising but I love them so here you go, F/M, Gen, I love Carver so Fight Me, Jasper and Annabelle are OTP, Jasper has a sister, Multi, Other, Tags added as I figure them out, This is insanely difficult, You Can't tell me the Nelli and Victor aren't totally dating, how do you tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Strife/pseuds/Raven_Strife
Summary: All Whitney had wanted was for her life to stop falling apart. It's been 5 years since her brother vanished and her world is about to get turned upside down again, can she handle the night and all it offers? Or will she be meeting the dawn?Summary will probably change but here it is for now.
Relationships: Annabelle & Carver (L.A. by Night), Annabelle & Jasper Heartwood & Nelli G & Victor Temple, Annabelle & OC, Annabelle/Ellenore/Mark Temple (L.A. By Night), Annabelle/Jasper Heartwood, Annabelle/Mark Temple (L.A. By Night), Carver/Original Female Character, Chloe Hudson & OC, Eva (L.A. By Night)/Nines Rodriguez, Nelli G/Victor Temple, Original Female Character & Jasper, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Past Eva/Katya, Past Jasper Heartwood/Chloe Hudson, Past Nelli G/ Chaz Price, Suzanne Rochelle/Vannevar Thomas, brief Annabelle/Ellenore
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Another Day, Another Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly never thought I would write any kind of fic for this web series but here I am so very much in love with it and incapable of not, especially when it comes to Jasper Heartwood because dear god I love him and want to give him a hug and stop him from getting FATALLY WOUNDED ALMOST EVERY FREAKING EPISODE. Just… I love him and have emotions when it comes to this series okay… anyway moving on! Also Carver is an asshole, like capital A, but my god I love him so much and so he is Whitney’s Asshole. Fucking fight me.  
> Added note: I just, I love Taliesin Jaffe and I have no fucking clue why...I really don’t...
> 
> Also a special thank you and shout out to my friend TwoBlueTails for reading over this story and giving my feedback. She is wonderful and she recently started an LA By Night fic called "Beauty and the Beast" which is a Jasper/Annabelle fic so go check that out because it is amazing!
> 
> Also I am not finished writing this yet but I am a few chapters ahead so hopefully I can maintain the pace I have around college and other such responsibilities! Let me know what you think of the chapter~

Time is a strange thing. It flows like water, neve being exactly the same, and yet it is something we cannot grasp, cannot hold in our hands or in cups the way one could hold a glass of water. Yet, in a world of Darkness, after the sun falls and people are coming back home to friends and family after a long day of school or work, spending time with loved ones before falling to sleep, there are those who rise from the sleep of death. Those who are stagnant in time. They do not age, they do not die of natural causes, and they do not eat, at least not the way a mortal does.  
And it is with this strange concept of time, both everchanging and yet halting, that we begin to understand the vampire, the Kindred. Something that to one young girl is about to become the rest of her unlife.  
Our story starts in a dorm room on the Campus of Griffith College in L.A., a beautiful warm Monday, with a young girl by the name of Whitney. The dorm was large, a living room dining room area, with an open kitchen plan, and two doors one that leads to a bathroom and another that leads to a large bedroom split down the middle. All of it is plainly designed, cozy in a sense, the living room has a black board that is currently empty chalk at the ready, a tape dispenser attached to the board with string in a plastic container stabled to the side of the blank canvas.  
In the bedroom, on the left hand side is the only space that is not decorated in earthy tan colors. Instead it has white, grey, and black, beautiful skyline photos of different bridges in New York City, art of skulls, a fuzzy rug. On the bed sits a young girl, no older than 23. Chocolate cherry hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, blue-green eyes tracing the equations before her as she writes answers, painted alongside the setting sun from the window next to her. A groan escapes as she stretches her back and with a satisfied pop, flops backward homework laying before her, a half muttered name on her lips and a small tear falls. Then her composure is settled again and she sits up and pushes the papers away.  
Standing she pads out to the kitchen, grabbing a few hours old coffee that is then popped into the microwave as leftovers are pulled out and plated, then exchanged once the coffee is done. Creamer is added as the scent of tomato sauce permeates the air. Taking a sip from her mug she leans against the counter and closes her eyes, trying to stave off a headache as the front door opens. “Hey Whit? Are you home?”  
“Yeah! Hey Chloe.” shifting her head, eyes falling open Whitney smiles at her roommate. “How was that date?” Setting her cup down on the counter, Whitney crosses her arms folding her black baggy band shirt crumbling slightly and a hint of short pajama shorts peek out from underneath the long shirt, a small smirk stretching across her face.  
Chloe smiles, flaming red hair falling in gentle curly waves, golden brown eyes holding just a bare hint of sadness giving way to where, or more like who, was in her thoughts. “It was great, Dave is a great guy. You know it was fun, diner, a movie. How about you? What’s been on the agenda tonight?”  
Pulling the slightly taller girl into a hug, Whitney leads them both to the living room, making sure Chloe is comfy on the couch before grabbing another mug of coffee to heat up and dragging both it and her food and mug with her as she sits next to the red head. “Nothing much. Homework, working on banners and signs for the next rally. Trying to help keep everything going now that Annabelle is sick. It’s tough but we’re basically ready.” Silence falls between the two as Chloe nods, each girl sipping from their mug. Whitney perks up at a thought, “Hey do you think you could help me with my math homework?”  
Chloe laughs, shaking her head, “You never were very good at math are you?”  
The other girl groans, falling backward on the couch, dragging a pillow onto her face, mug having been placed on the small table, “Shut up will you!” A smile appears on her face as the slightly somber air falls away. Getting up off the couch and lightly swatting Chloe with the pillow Whitney dances off to their shared room turning on some study music on her phone along the way. Scooping up the work she still had left, the painful math assignment on top from just a half hour earlier.  
Piling the work onto the table, the two buckle down and with Chloe’s patience and help everything gets done within a few hours. Sunset had long passed, an alarm going off lets both girls know that it is about 10 o’clock. Homework stashed back into folders and binders, ready to be turned in.  
The two girls again find themselves settled on the couch, alarms for sleep being ignored. “Hey Chloe, do you ever miss home?” The question is sudden, but the silence had been calm and comfortable making it easy to ask, seemingly silly questions.  
Chloe takes her time to think, wanting to give the younger girl a real answer. “I mean, yeah. It’s hard to be away from family, but it was even harder… harder when he died.”  
Whitney curls up next to Chloe, trying to give comfort to them both. “I miss him too.” Whitney looks up, grabbing the red head's hand, “He loved you, ya know? And he had good taste.” She gets the reaction she was hoping for, a smile, a laugh, “You make a great sister too.” Because to Whitney, Chloe was the best sister. Seeing her big brother with Chloe, happy, even despite all of his rather poor choices, was amazing. She had loved her big brother despite all of his flaws, despite the bad choices he had made that resulted in other people getting hurt, how could she not. Sure they had had their mother, but she was flighty at best and so being older, he had stepped up and done the best he could to take care of her, raise her. Chloe had done much the same when she entered the picture, and helped keep her brother from straying too far, made him want to be a better person. He had never said he was proud of the things he did, and he tried to keep it away from Whitney. If a fight got really bad, if he got hurt, Whitney always knew, and would clean him up. Through doing so she had gained quite an extensive knowledge of healing, though she never wished to use it, it was always handy know a days for the sometimes out of control rallies, the fire bombings, and other injuries acquired. They agreed not to tell Chloe the unsavory parts of what he did, didn’t tell her about his wounds, chalking up the younger girls medical talents to red cross classes or something.  
Eventually the red head couldn’t stay awake and both agreed that sleep was wise, passing out within moments of laying their heads down.  
Things progressed similarly for the rest of the week, school life filed with work, art projects, writing assignments, and lots of coffee. It was later in the week when Whitney had time to go out, having finished classwork and the banner for the next rally. Grabbing her boots, phone in her pocket along with her small wallet, she headed out into the twilight, heading to the café for a late snack.  
Time passed in a leisurely manner as she watched the local band “Sour Sugar” set up to play some sets. It had always struck her as odd that they only came out at night, and that they played until just before dawn. Though she never pondered on it for long, it wasn’t her place to worry about people she didn’t know, besides they had some alright remixes, a few she might even consider good. Heading closer, across the quad, Whitney starts bobbing her head to the music. For all that it wasn’t to her taste there was no denying their talent with the instruments they used. Mingling with the crowd she quickly spots a familiar leather jacket and short pink mohawk. A small smile on her face as she worms through the packed teens with a small shout of a name, “Carver!”  
A male turns around, arrogant smirk already in place as he grabs her outstretched hand and pulls her toward him. “Hey Princess! Thought I might see you tonight.”  
Whitney pouts at him, throwing a soft punch at his shoulder. “Your an ass,” then a smile pulls at her lips again. “It's been a while how the hell are you.” She pulls him into a hug, feeling cold hands on her exposed back, just below her tube top. “Good lord dude, cold hands!! Warn me next time!” Laughing they pull away.  
“I’m doing just fine, thanks Princess. What worried ‘bout me?” Snaking an arm around her waist the two start to blandly sway to the music. She lets him stand close, knowing that if she got uncomfortable that telling him to back the hell off would do well to get the message across. Not too long after Whitney starts dancing, jean short shorts riding up just a little higher as boot clad feet dance along the ground. Tugging on Carver’s hand, the young girl pulls him into a dance with her, it doesn’t match up to the music playing, not that it matters to either individual as they have a good time.  
Carver’s focus is mostly on the band, keeping tab of what they are doing, who’s around, what’s getting passed. Whitney does steal his attention though, with her wild laughter ringing through the air, adrenaline coursing through her veins. A voice tells him to take a bite, that she wouldn’t mind. Carver slows to an unconscious swaying, forcing his attention onto the band. She quickly notices his lack of enthusiasm to the music, which hasn’t improved in the slightest. She nudges him, “Hey everything okay?”  
Before he can answer his eyes are drawn to a red leather jacket, and a suit wearing man. He waves, blows a kiss in their direction, then turns back keeping his companion from their view. “Yeah, just work Princess. I gotta go.”  
She pouts again, sad to see her friend leave, but work is work. Stretching up she pulls him into a hug. “See you later beautiful.” He grabs her hand, places a flirty kiss on it, before heading toward his company.  
A shocked laugh, “Tease!” Then she begins dancing again.  
[*It wasn't long after though that the band concluded for the night. Whitney sighed of course it was just when she was really getting into a rhythm. She stood still debating going back to the apartment or staying out when Juan came over to her. "Hey Whitney glad you're here! Those banners and posters are amazing as always!!"  
She smiles. "Thank you! I'm glad everyone likes them." Then she pauses, considering asking if he's seen her. "Hey, have you seen Annabelle lately? She didn't come over to get those, Ellenore said she was sick but still." The worry for her friend had been eating at her but neither Ellenore nor Mark would tell her anything. Admittedly Whitney wasn't as close to them as she was Annabelle, what with the bullshit they pulled at the government building. However Annabelle swore by them, and loved them with everything she had so Whitney would be supportive even if she was wary.  
Juan shook his head. "No, I saw her briefly at the meeting but not much before and not since. She seemed fine though." Whitney nodded a little relieved but still uncertain.  
Thanking Juan Whitney wandered away from the crowd, pulling out her phone. It didn't hurt to shoot her a text just to be safe.

Whit: Hey Annabelle I wanted to check in on you. Haven't seen you since that night everything okay?

The reply came not long after and did nothing to calm her gut feeling.

Annie: Whitney hey! I’m alright, it’s just, things are kind of crazy right now and I’m not really sure when I’ll be around again. Sorry, maybe we can meet up or something? 

Whitney wanted to ask what was wrong. Wanted to ask if she needed to get away for a few hours, if it was Mark and Ellenore again. She had never liked those two, they were critical of Annabelle all the time. Backing up the Asian girls spark, her fire, but dismissing her when that flame was something they could no longer tame the way they wanted it to.  
Wandering the quad for a bit, watching papers get passed around that talked about the dirty money being funneled into the school. The protest started in earnest soon after. Loud voices rising as shouts against the companies and government officials they had been protesting and fighting against for the last year at least. Whitney stood on the sideline wanting to help fight against corruption but, just not having the energy anymore. Not with her worries for her friend. It was then that Annabelle texted her again.

Annie: Can you please please please do me a favor and get Mark out of there? I will owe you one.

Hanging her head Whitney nodded to herself before replying that she would do her best and jumping head first into the group. It was near impossible to move through the crowd of condensed human bodies. They were like a wall and just over the ringing of their voices she could hear police sirens. Well that was just great. Giving one more great big shove, Whitney landed in a small spot in the group that had just a touch more room and using this to her advantage began to try and look for the top of Mark’s head in the sea of people.  
It took a moment to find him, off to the side away from the front which was his preferred spot of leadership, with two big dudes and the flaming red hair that Whitney could imagine belonged to Ellenore. Just as she stepped to make her way over, her phone buzzed again. Carver’s current number.

Carver: Princess, heard what was happening on the campus, you safe? If you're still there, get out, it could get messy.

The girl wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sure she wanted to leave, getting tear gas in the face and spending time in jail wasn’t exactly ideal but she had promised Annabelle she would find Mark. And while she didn’t like him Annabelle did and if something happened to him on her watch Whitney knew she would feel awful.

Whit: Can’t promised my friend Annabelle I would find her boy-toy and drag him out. I keep my promises. I’ll be safe. Text you later.

Then she tucked her phone away and made it to Mark and Ellenore just in time to see two thugs walk away, after having beaten the snot out of the two. “Hey, Annabelle asked me to get you out of here. Come on.” Grabbing both of Annabelle’s lovers by the wrist she began to drag them away from the protest. Neither gave much of a fight, too out of it from almost getting their lights punched out. It was a long night getting them back to their apartment and doing what she could to help with bruises and swelling before heading out. Just as she fell into bed that night Whitney texted Carver. 

Whit: Told you I’d be fine. See you again soon!

{End of Chapter 1}


	2. When the World Stops Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A contemplative day slowly goes from quiet to terrifying before crashing into the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I meant to get this chapter up a few days ago but I have started my first semester of college so I have been very busy with that and midterms are running at me like a train and I am not ready just yet. I will try to get another chapter out soon, chapter 3 is already written but I want to put a buffer of chapters up between where I'm writing and what chapters are up so that if I get into a writing slump or really busy I can still get chapters out to all of you so the next week or two might not see chapters but as soon as I get done with all of my midterms and numerous assignments I will make sure to update! Now on to the chapter! Enjoy!! <3<3<3

It was a few weeks later that the day had just felt...different. Nothing had happened, not to Whitney’s knowledge at least. The air just had a tinge of despair to it, maybe it was the rain, maybe it was just teen angst, regardless it had the girl pondering her thoughts. Thoughts both past and present, things she had written about in her diary.   
She had never been a person to really look back on moments, always trying to live in the moment. Maybe that was partly due to her more luxurious upbringing, perhaps it was a way for her to cherish what little attention her mother would lavish on her. Or even because she could never be quite sure when her brother would come home from that group. The one she knew of but he never introduced her too.   
Today, however, was an exception and leaning against her window she lost herself to thought. Most of them surrounded her brother. Memories of the two of them, working in her little flower garden, reading, learning everything and anything they could. He had encouraged her pursuit of the arts, taking her to gymnastics and dance lessons, both things she enjoyed even if ballet was not her calling, listening to her rant about the differences in paint, canvas structure, her favorite artists. He never interrupted her, just asked more questions, a small smile on his face listening to her talk so animatedly.   
There was a trail of unnoticed, briny tears that had someone seen her, Whitney would have blamed the rain for. Thinking of her brother hurt. A throbbing in her heart that made her bitter and angry. At some point she had brought a hand up to her chest, right where the painful organ was and rubbed the skin, trying to sooth it as she gently pulled at the skin around a tattoo. It was very simple, a plain heart with the letter J in the middle. That’s it, but it held so much meaning. It was the first letter of his name, a reminder that he was always with her, a promise to never forget him. A promise to not go looking for him.   
Whitney knew he wasn’t dead. Not that she would admit it aloud, no it was a private thought meant for no one but herself. But she still knew it to be true. She could never say how she knew, it was a gut feeling. Sure there were inconsistencies, his body was never found and so an empty casket was buried, practically no search for him. Her heart told her it was more than that though. If she was asked about it, it would be best explained as a pull, a pull that told her that he was still alive and she knew that if that was the case then he wanted them to believe that he was dead. Her brother was never one to do something regarding “his girls”, as he had jokingly called her and Chloe, without having a good reason.   
That is what she mourned. His absence. The reason that kept him away, something that was so dangerous he didn’t think they could handle it. Wanted to keep them as safe as possible. So Whitney never pried, though she wanted to. Never looked for him, pretended that he was dead, though it hurt to not be with her brother, to be unable to help him with whatever he had gotten into.   
The closest she ever got was moving to LA for school. Staying in the Big Apple just hurt because it wasn’t where he had spent the last few years of his life. So against what he had probably wanted Whitney sent an application to the same college that Chloe was at and moved as soon as she got accepted. To be just a little closer to her brother, and keep Chloe safe for him. Something he would want, the two girls keeping each other safe.   
Pulling herself from the window, Whitney shook her head. Enough was enough, pouting over the past wouldn’t change it, so there was no point. Standing, she stretched and headed to the bathroom, splashing icy water on her face to clear the tears away she took a deep breath. Clearing her mind quickly she headed back to her bedroom and set up her art station.   
Easel in the middle in the room, a foldable table with her plentiful paints, paint brushes and water cup, graphite pencil, outline marker, and white correction pen. Tying her hair back, throwing on an apron, and grabbing a large blank canvas, placing a flat piece of wood behind it.   
Finally, she flipped through a photo album, and pulled out a picture. It was of her and her brother standing together in her small flower garden back in the city. Her brother had been about 16 at the time, she herself was only 13. It was one of her favorite photos and now it would be her new project.   
Gently pulling it from the book, grabbing a binder clip, and clipping the picture to the top of the wooden board, she set to work. Lightly sketching out the two of them. Clothing and limbs taking shape in gentle strokes of her pencil across the canvas. Taking the time to ensure that the painstaking details were there. Wanting this to be perfect, a memory that she brought to life.   
Then the background, a small rose bush, some peony’s, carnations, a small flower pot of Forget-Me-Nots, Daisy’s, Damask Rose, daffodils, and a few honeysuckle. Taking care of those flowers was so important to her. She remembered spending hours tending to them, trimming away dead bits, talking to them, watering, making sure they got the perfect amount of sun. It had made her so happy, and that year when everything had bloomed so beautifully, her brother had agreed to taking a picture among them as a memento to the happy day.  
It was when she had taken a break, giving her hand a rest before going over the lines in a light pen, just to make it a little more distinct and easier to follow that she noticed that the sun had finally made the clouds thin and the rain stopped, making the sunset of the day visible. Opening her window she poked her head out, taking a deep breath of fresh air. An odd sight greeted her when she looked around though.   
Right outside her window was a black car. It was parked across the street, and there was nothing unusual about that, no it was the person standing in front of the car. They weren’t physically imposing, not overly buff. Brown hair slicked back, black suit perfectly pressed, and his gaze directly on her. The young girl froze, unsure of if he really was looking her way, ‘Who else could it be though?’ Just as she was about to see if anyone else had seen him, if he truly was looking at her, the mystery man raised a hand and waved at her. Panic-stricken blue-green orbs frantically looked around before beelining into her room, slamming the window shut, locking it, and drawing the curtains before she fled the room. Dashing to the front door of the apartment and locking the door.   
Whitney leaned against the door for seemingly hours, far too terrified to move away, thoughts swirling around. Scenes from horror movies playing out in her mind starring her and always ending with her death. It wasn’t until her feet began to prickle in pain that she pulled herself from her thoughts, double checked the locks, and moved away from the door.   
Peeking out from behind the curtain she saw that the car was gone and instantly she felt relief. No it wasn’t perfect, the fear and dread was still present but at least he wasn’t still there at the moment.   
Taking another moment to center herself, Whitney then got back to work on the painting. A relaxing activity after a nerve-wracking experience. Though she was quite jumpy, small noises had her heart pounding and muscles freezing.  
The next interruption came just as she had started painting the background, wanting to focus on the biggest piece of open canvas before the flowers or the two figures, and it was in the form of her roommate. Chloe came racing into the building, slamming the door shut, startling Whitney (who was immensely grateful that her paintbrush had not been on the canvas, small mercy’s). A red blur headed past her, and Chloe began pulling apart her side of their bedroom, searching for something.   
Placing her brush down, Whitney grabbed Chloe’s arm. “Hey whoa, where’s the fire?” Paper rustled as she turned, and the girl pulled her close, letting her cry. “What happened? Chloe, breath, shh.” Firmly gripping the red head, she led them both to the ground, patting red hair to sooth her hysterical friend. After a few moments, when the girl in her arms seemed to start calming down, Whitney spoke again. “What happened Chlo, are you alright?”   
Brown eyes glistened as they met her own, a pale hand holding up a paper napkin that was clutched in a death grip. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but the words were as loud as a bomb. “He’s alive. Whitney, Jasper’s alive!”  
{End of Chapter 2}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was that? Did you like it, what was your favorite part? Let me know! Also just to let you know I am setting up a tumblr (as I've never had one before) and it will link to this and the Youtube channel I am also trying to get up off the ground. Once both of those are up I will let you know so you can follow me there for updates on everything! See you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Have any questions? Liked a part? Want to fangirl together? Leave a comment! I am open to hearing about anything and everything and I really hope you like my story and where it goes!!


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